


Grass

by petersnotkingyet



Series: DC Domestic Partnership [3]
Category: Bones (TV), Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, future relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 01:11:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20331580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petersnotkingyet/pseuds/petersnotkingyet
Summary: It took a month for Hotch to realize that the grass at their new house never seemed to grow.  It was another month after that before he turned onto the street after work and saw a blond young man pull out of the driveway with a lawnmower.





	Grass

It took a month for Hotch to realize that the grass at their new house never seemed to grow. It was another month after that before he turned onto the street after work and saw a blond young man pull out of the driveway with a lawnmower.

He had to press Jessica for more information. The young man’s name was Wendell, she said, and he went to the same church she and Haley did. Haley had hired him to mow after she and Hotch separated, and when she died, Wendell asked Jessica for Hotch and Jack’s new address so he could keep mowing for them.

“Well, I guess I’m behind on payments,” Hotch said dryly.

“Aaron, he just wants to help,” Jessica sighed. “Why do you think he’s always so careful to come while you’re at work?”

Another three weeks went by before he caught Wendell in the act.

“Hi, Agent Hotchner,” Wendell said sheepishly when Hotch pulled in the driveway while he was still loading up the lawnmower. Wendell was young, maybe 25, and his blond hair was sticking straight up. It was hot out, and pieces of grass clung to the sweat on his arms.

“Wendell!” Jack cheered from the backseat. Something about their familiarity made Hotch’s stomach clench. This was a man—a young, attractive man—who had apparently spent enough time around his house for Jack to know him.

“Hey, buddy,” Wendell said, smiling before glancing back to Hotch. “I, uh… I hope I’m not intruding. I heard about what happened at church, and I just wanted to help out.”

“No, it’s okay,” Hotch said. He had a lot of hard feelings about his and Haley’s separation, but nothing about Wendell indicated he was anything more than kind. “Thank you. I guess you haven’t gotten paid in a while.”

Wendell waved him off quickly

“I know it’s not the same,” he said hesitantly, “but I lost my dad when I was twelve. Mowing was the last thing on my mind.”

“Thank you,” Hotch said again. “Would you like to come in and have some water before you go?”

“Thanks, but I’m alright,” Wendell said. “You guys have a good evening.”

Now that Hotch knew who he was, Wendell stopped being so careful about never mowing while he was home. Hotch was still usually away, but it wasn’t uncommon for him to arrive home to Wendell in the yard. When it was hot, Jack always wanted to bring something out for him to drink.

“What are you listening to?” Hotch asked one day while Wendell, drenched in sweat and grass clippings stood on the porch—careful not to touch anything—and drained the glass of lemonade Jack had poured him. His earbuds were around his neck now, but he always had them in while he mowed.

“Oh, I record myself reading my notes from class,” Wendell said.

“You’re still in school?” Hotch asked. He’d thought Wendell was older than that.

“I’m working on a doctorate in forensic anthropology,” Wendell said, blushing a little. That definitely went against the profile Hotch had subconsciously built—working class, single parent household after his dad’s death, careful to never come inside or touch anything, like he’d dirty it with more than grass. “I intern at the Jeffersonian. The mowing is just a side gig.”

“The Jeffersonian,” Hotch repeated, recognizing the name. “Have you ever worked with Agent Booth?”

“All the time,” Wendell said, smiling. “His partner is who I work under—Dr. Brennan.”

“So you work on murder victims for the FBI?”

“Most of the time,” Wendell said. “If we don’t have an active case though, we do older stuff.”

“I’ve met Agent Booth,” Hotch said. “Your team has an excellent conviction rate.”

Wendell flushed again under the praise.

“Dr. Brennan is brilliant,” he deflected. “I’m really lucky to get to work with her.”

-

“This one’s a little tricky, crimefighters,” Garcia said, deliberately not looking at the pictures she pulled up. “A mudslide in Washington state uncovered eleven bodies last night. They’re all completely skeletonized, and the teeth have been smashed to prevent dental IDs. The local PDs have had no luck finding cause of death or matching DNA. Some of the bodies were buried on top of each other and then moved in the mudslide, so the bones are all kind of… jumbled together.”

“So how are we supposed to figure out what happened to them?” Morgan said. “Let alone who’s who.”

“We can’t,” Hotch said, pulling out his phone. “But I know who can.”

-

Wendell and Dr. Brennan were on the plane to Washington with the team within the hour. It was a long fight, and Wendell settled in for a nap once they’d gone over all of the details they had. Dr. Brennan sat next to Reid, and they already looked like they were getting along.

“Where’d you find these two?” Rossi asked lowly while they were distracted. 

Wendell was sleeping now, but the team had been very impressed with him as they went over the case. It was one thing to know Booth and his team’s reputation and another to hear the depth of forensic knowledge coming from the mouth of someone as young and attractive as Wendell. When Morgan had turned to Reid and said, “Pretty boy, I think he could give you a run for your money,” Wendell had blushed in a way that made Hotch feel unusually fond.

“He cuts my grass,” Hotch admitted. Rossi raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t comment.

-

“Wendell?” Hotch said as he opened the door, surprised to see that he was still in the station. The young man was sitting in a chair beside the last set of remains.

“Oh, hey, Aaron,” Wendell said, jolting to his feet.

“What are you still doing here?” Hotch asked. The younger man looked drowsy. Everyone was exhausted, and Dr. Brennan and the rest of the team had gone back to the hotel over an hour ago to get some sleep before they flew out in the morning.

“I, uh...” Wendell said, fumbling for the words. “Her family hasn’t come yet. I didn’t want them to get here and see her just… alone.”

“Kelly Bolton, right?” Hotch said, nodding toward the remains.

“Yeah. She was a junior the University of Washington.”

“She was an out-of-state student,” Hotch added gently. “Her parents are flying in from South Carolina, but they won’t get here until tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Wendell said. “I guess I should have thought about that.”

“You wanted them know someone cares about their daughter,” Hotch said. “That’s not a bad thing, Wendell. Come on, I’ll drive you back to the hotel.”

Wendell smiled softly and gathered his things before following Hotch out of the station.

“Thank you for coming out for this case,” Hotch said once they were in the car. “Having you and Dr. Brennan was invaluable. We wouldn’t have found him if we hadn’t been able to identify the victims. I know it’s not easy for you to miss class and work for a couple days.”

“Technically, I’m getting paid for this,” Wendell said. Then his smile drooped a little and he stared back at the police station where Kelly Bolton was waiting for her family to bring her home. “We gave her her name back, Hotch. There’s nothing more important than that.”

Hotch glanced over at Wendell as he drove. He was leaning against the window, half asleep, and Hotch knew the type of lives they lived were going to tear Wendell’s soft heart up. But God, the world would be better for it.


End file.
